The Moon and Antartica
by toomanypickles
Summary: A series of shorts following the songs from Modest Mouse's The Moon and Antartica album.
1. Chapter 1

Third Planet

Everything that keeps me together is falling apart, I've got  
this thing that I consider my only art of fucking people over  
My boss just quit the job says he's going out to find blind  
spots and he'll do it  
The 3rd Planet is sure that they're being watched by an  
eye in the sky that can't be stopped  
When you get to the promise land your gonna shake that  
eyes hand  
Your heart felt good it was dripping pitch and made of wood  
And your hands and knees felt cold and wet on the grass to me  
Outside naked, shivering looking blue, from the cold  
sunlight that's reflected off the moon  
Baby cum angels fly around you reminding you we used  
to be three and not just two  
And that's how the world began  
And that's how the world will end  
A 3rd had just been made and we were swimming in the  
water, didn't know then was it a son was it a daughter  
When it occurred to me that the animals are swimming  
around in the water in the oceans in our bodies and  
another had been found another ocean on the planet  
given that our blood is just like the Atlantic  
And how  
The universe is shaped exactly like the earth if you go  
straight long enough you'll end up where you were

I hate this feeling. Mother and father are leaving each other, and they'll leave me to – I know it. Everything is falling to pieces, and no one believes anymore. There's no one for me anymore but mother, but soon she'll be leaving too. They're going to make her leave. My friends. We used to think that, didn't we?  
I think… It's all my fault. It feels like I've screwed over my friends and I've made it into a kind of art. Marche – who stood up for me before – I had prosecuted because I'm such a chicken. I wish I could stand up for myself for once. I wish I could stop needing others to do it for me. I wish I could just get over myself and get brave and get rid of this stupid act, but I'm afraid. Everywhere there are eyes watching me, everywhere I go. They're in the sky, the walls and streets, and worst of all; they're in my mother's face.

"This is it." Ritz said. Marche looked up in surprise; her voice was so cold. He wondered how she could stay so calm at a time like this. Sometimes he thought that maybe she had a heart made of wood. But still she shivered in the cool wet grass of the early morning. She seemed almost blue, and otherworldly at the moment. He wished she would put her boots back on.  
She moved suddenly, with jerky movements, making the shape of a ball in her hands and motioning throwing the imaginary ball at an invisible target, reminding him how, long ago, it was the three of them standing up to their enemies. How he used to think that the three of them would have been here, facing their problems together.  
He never imagined something like this would happen.  
They were the world, and its oceans. They lived on it, and it lived in them. Their blood was the oceans he thought, and said so. She smiled. 'And how.' she said, and laughed without knowing why.  
They both knew what was coming, the dreams they were breaking. They knew that eventually, no matter what worlds they ran to, or how far, you always end up right where you started.


	2. Chapter 2

Gravity Rides Everything

Oh gotta see gotta know right now.  
What's that riding on your everything?  
It isn't anything at all.  
Oh gotta see gotta know right now.  
What's that writing on your shelf in the bathrooms and  
the bad motels  
No one really cared for it at all  
Not the gravity plan.  
Early Early in the morning it pulls all on down my sore feet  
I wanna go back to sleep.  
In the motions and the things that you say.  
It all will fall, fall right into place  
As fruit drops, flesh it sags  
Everything will fall right into place  
When we die some sink and some lay  
But at least I don't see you float away  
And all the spilt milk sex and weight  
It all will fall, fall right into place.

"What's all this writing on your walls? You know mom doesn't like it when we put stuff on our walls."

"It isn't nothing – anything at all."

"So what is it then?"

"It's just that… I never really cared for gravity. Not at all."

"I know you don't–"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to go back."

"I know you want to go back. But Doned–"

"Just stop! Go away! Just… let me sleep."

Marche watched Doned turn his back to him, his face to the wall. He already knew, everybody knew, how Doned hated it here. He could see it in his face and everything he said, and in his twisted crippled legs. Everyone could see the frustration in the small boy's face, but they didn't understand. They didn't know that they were just like the small boy they pitied so, and they were just as trapped as he was here. They didn't understand because they had never escaped as he had. Everyone has a secret, but not like these brothers, and that's why they could never understand the cripple's anger.

Except Marche. He was the one who believed. But sometimes he liked gravity, or so he told himself. Because with gravity, then everything could fall into place, he told himself. With gravity everything could be normal.

And he hated watching his brother floating away from him.


	3. Chapter 3

Dark Centre of the Universe

Well I might  
disintegrate into the thin air if you like  
And I'm not  
the dark center of the universe like you thought  
Well it took a lot of work to be the ass that I am  
And I'm pretty damn sure that anyone can  
Easily, equally fuck ya over  
Well God said something but he didn't mean it  
Everyone's life ends but no one ever completes it  
Dry and wet ice, they both melt  
and you're equally cheated  
Well it took a lot of work...  
Well an endless ocean landing on an endless desert  
Well it's funny as hell, but no one laughs when they get there  
If you can't see the thin air  
Why the hell should you care?  
Well it took a lot of work...  
Well sure you'll tell me you've got nothing to say  
And I went and shook hands the other day  
If you can't see the thin air then  
What the hell is in your way?

I think sometimes that everyone hates me, and I could just shrivel up and die. Or disappear into thin air, whatever that is anyway. I'm sure sometimes, that it would make them happy. It would make mom happy, not having to put up with a daughter, a freak and disappointment like me. But sometimes I wish I could stop being what I am, what they think I am and so make me into.

It's work for me sometimes, to be the thing they think I am. This is hard, and I spend time perfecting my cold self. I wish I could say it and not be lying. It's just so easy to say these mean things and keep them away.

Sometimes I feel like the centre of the universe, because no one really knows where it is. Because the universe is infinite, is what they say. I don't believe. Half of infinity is still infinity? It can't be true, because it's not fair. If – and when – I am cut in half, I am just myself, in two halves. I'm in pieces, and dead. I'm not infinite.

I don't think the winter here ever ends. Mother Nature must hate me too. She mocks me with white snow everywhere, white enough to blind you if you stare at it in the sun. Kind of like my hair – like me. But I never melt. I wish the sun could melt my skin. It's kind of funny if you think about it. No, it's really funny. I hate the person I've set myself up to be. But then, why should you care?

Mom was crying again. I asked her, but she said it was nothing. It's what she always says, nothing, and I don't know what to say to stop her. I don't know what to do, or why I keep asking questions when I know the answer. Sometimes I think instead, I should just run away and then there would be nothing to hold her back anymore.

Nothing holding me here but her. And one day I know, everybody dies. We're all alike in that aspect. I have that in common with you at least.


	4. Chapter 4

Perfect Disguises

Well you've got the perfect disguise and you're looking OK  
From the bottom of the best to the worst well what can I say  
Cos you cocked your head to shoot me down  
And I don't give a damn about you or this town no more  
No, but I know the score  
Need me to fall down so you can climb up  
Some fool-ass ladder. Well, good luck.  
I hope, hope there's something better up there  
Cos you cocked your head to shoot me down  
And I don't give a damn about you or this town no more  
No, cos I know the score  
Broke my back

Climbing the rope in gym class. The children stand in a circle and watch.

He sees them all, with they're beautiful disguises and fake candy hearts. Listen to them laughing. Their laughs are shots – shooting him in the face, making it impossible to move on and up.

'I don't care.' he tells himself. He know that they don't matter, that there is a place somewhere they don't exist, somewhere everyone loves him and his dad is happy, not an embarrassment anymore. Somewhere…

Why do they do this? He peers to the top of the rope. Is there anything up there worth this pain? Is there someone there waiting for him, to cheer his victory.

No, it's only the ceiling. Cold metal bars holding up the school. How he could knock them down and set the roof crashing down on them all. How he would smile in the rubble.

He smiles, decides he doesn't give a damn anymore. Let's go. And comes down, crashing to the ground like some strange, mutated bird. There are mats on the floor, but doesn't it feel like he's broken his back. It still feels worse when the children shoot him in the gut. Because not giving a damn isn't the same as having a bulletproof vest.


	5. Chapter 5

Tiny Cities Made of Ashes

We're going down the road to tiny cities made of ashes  
I'm going to hit you on the face  
I'm going to punch you in your glasses, oh no  
I just got a message that said  
"Yeah, hell has frozen over."  
I got a phone call from the Lord saying,  
"Hey boy, get a sweater, right now."  
So we're drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' coca coca cola  
I can feel it rolling right on down  
oh right on down my throat now  
as we're headed down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes  
I'm gonna get dressed up in plastic  
Gonna shake hands with the masses, OH NO!  
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?  
Does anybody know a way?  
We're going down the road to tiny cities made of ashes  
I'm going to hit you on the face  
I'm going to punch you in your glasses  
I'm wearing myself a T-shirt that says  
"The world is my ashtray"  
Our hearts pump dust and our hair's all grey  
And I just got a message that said  
"Yeah, hell has frozen over."  
I got a phone call from the Lord saying,  
"Hey boy, get a sweater, right now!"  
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?  
Does anybody know a way?  
We're drinkin' drinkin' drinkin' drink' coca coca cola  
I can feel it rolling right on down  
oh right on down my throat  
as we're headed down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes  
I'm going to lay down in the spa where they coat you in molasses  
Right now!  
Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?  
Does anybody know a way?

Ritz has her arm out of the window, swaying it up and down and around in the wind rushing past the car. She is silent; has been for the past hour of driving.

"Watch you don't lose your arm to a cactus or something." Marche warns her. He's usually nervous when he drives anyway, having Ritz hanging out of the car just makes it worse.

She laughs and pulls her arm in. "You're right. The cacti out here are vicious."

They fall silent again. Marche wishes he was better at talking; Ritz wishes basically the same. She also wishes that Marche was a girl, so she could take her shirt off.

"Whose idea was it to take your car?" she asks again.

"Yours." Marche reminds her.

She shakes her head in disbelief and looks out the window. "What was I thinking? Driving through a desert with no air conditioning… I should have taken a plane." She mutters to herself, but she's happy inside. It feels nice, driving across the country with Marche. It feels a little like she's running away. That's why she wanted to take Marche's car. That's why she told her mom not to drive her.

She sighs and leans back in her chair. The car smells like sweat almost masked by deodorant. "What do think the chances are of there being shade somewhere soon so we can stop and rest a bit?"

Marche shrugs. "I dunno, maybe a pig will fly overhead and keep up with the car so we won't even have to stop."

"Ugh. If you weren't driving, I might just punch you for being so cruel."

They pass a sign telling them they've almost reached a town called Snowflake. They laugh at the name. "Quick, get out our sweaters!" Ritz says, wishing it really would be cold enough for sweaters. After living in a snowy city all her life she just wasn't prepared for this place.

She leans as close to the window as she can without actually leaning outside, but the air blowing in is hot and doesn't offer much comfort. The heat is making her irritable, so she tries not to say anything, afraid she'll just act bitchy to Marche.

He tries the radio. It hasn't been working for half an hour, but he figures it should be worth a try, if they're nearing a town. An ad comes on telling them to buy an RV. Ritz asks the radio if it has AC, but the announcer doesn't answer her.

She mutters insults under her breath that Marche can't quite make out. Snowflake comes into view miles ahead, in the distance.

"How much longer?" Ritz asks. Marche isn't sure what she means, so he answers for Snowflake.

"A few minutes. Do you really have to pee or something?"

She shakes her head. "We're stopping in Snowflake though, right?"

"Of course. I should probably fill up the tank again; who knows how long it could be until the next stop."

"Let me pay this time." Ritz says. Marche doesn't argue. It's not because he's cheap and doesn't want to pay for gas; it's not that. It's just that last time they stopped and Ritz offered to pay he argued with her, and it took quite a bit of arguing to convince her to let him pay. In this heat it's just not worth it. Better to stay as still as possible and hope the sun didn't take notice of you.

They stop at the gas station and Ritz goes inside to get a key to the washroom while Marche refills the tank and checks the oil. He washes the bugs off the windshield as Ritz goes back into the store to pay for gas. She comes back out with a twelve pack of Coca Cola.

"Let's get out quick," she says, swinging into the passenger seat, "They've recognized me."

Marche grins and gets in. They drive away, feeling like they've escaped something. They like the feeling of escape, especially when they can feel it in their own world. There's something exciting about the escape, something almost romantic, like the old spy movies.

"I didn't think so many people watched fencing." Ritz says as they leave Snowflake in the dust. The drive through the RV park on their way out.

"Maybe they have nothing better to do in a place like this." Marche suggests.

"Ugh. If I lived in a place like this I would shoot myself." she says. "If I ever even mention wanting to live here, hit me please."

"Can do." Marche answers happily. A little too happily. She sits back and mutters some more to herself while opening a can of Coke. She passes the open can to Marche and opens another for herself. It surprises him a little, her little acts of kindness. She doesn't even seem to notice them; that's probably the only reason they happen.

She gulps down about half a can and sighs contentedly. "So refreshing."

Marche drinks his more slowly. He likes the feel of the bubbles going down his throat. Not so much when they're sitting in his stomach, but in his throat; that's a nice feeling.

Ritz burps loudly. She puts her hand out in front of her mouth and almost instinctively clamps it onto her mouth, as if she can bring the burp back into herself. Why does she do it anyway? Only girls seem to feel the need to be so delicate, but she knows she's not delicate. Far from it.

Marche laughs. "You're so attractive. I can't believe you don't have a boyfriend."

"Maybe I'm a dyke." she jokes, putting her feet up on the dashboard. Marche just shakes his head at her. He knows it's not true, but he doesn't know how she really feels. She's glad he doesn't know.

"I hope the gym, or stadium or whatever will have air conditioning. Those suits are hot enough in St. Ivalice." she says, mostly just to make conversation. She really wants to take her shirt off, but not with Marche sitting right there.

"Nervous? All those people out there, all your fans…" Marche asks.

Ritz shakes her head, lying only a little. "Besides, they're not really my fans." she says. "I'm just a nobody from a small town no one's ever heard of before."

"Those people in Snowflake recognized you. Once they see your face, everyone remembers you. And after they see you fence, they admire you." Marche says. He's a bit of a suck up sometimes, but he doesn't lie. He feels that was himself.

"How could anyone forget a face like mine?" Ritz asks the road quietly. She's really asking, how could they forget her look, her blinding white hair. Even if they wanted to, they could never get the image out of their minds.

Marche glances at her quickly, noting the bitter tone in her voice. He thinks to say something comforting, something about how beautiful she looks, but it all sounds so corny and fake in his head. So he stays silent.

"Everything should be ashes." she says, after a long silence.

"Why would you say that?" Marche asks, thinking she's being morbid.

"The sun, it's so bright. Why doesn't everything burn up out here? It's too hot."

"Oh." Marche doesn't answer her question, just glad she's not wishing for the end of the world. He agrees with her, that the sun is too hot. The car is too hot.

She opens another can of Coca Cola and drinks it more slowly, leaving it in the cup holder for a while.

"Hey-" Marche starts to say.

"Would you mind-" Ritz says at the same time. They both stop.

"You first." Ritz says.

"Would you mind if I took my shirt off? It's so hot in here." He says, blushing a little, Ritz notes with a kind of twisted pleasure.

She laughs and nods, "Just as long as you don't mind me taking mine off too. I was about to ask you the same thing."

Marche smiles and pulls over. They get out and take off their shirts. Ritz offers to drive but Marche shakes his head. Ritz is a horrible driver, and they both know it. What they can't figure out is how she managed to get a license.

Once they're on the road again, and marginally more comfortable, Ritz opens a third can of Coca Cola.

"Don't you feel sick yet?" Marche asks her as she's drinking it.

"Nope."

He shakes his head. He's impressed that she hasn't exploded already, having consumed so much Coke. "It can't be good for your nerves." he says.

"What nerves?" she asks, "And what's with you? You sound like my mother, but worse."

Marche shrugs. "We just worry about you dear." he says and pats her bare shoulder. She shrugs him off quickly, ignoring the tremor that spreads through her body, and telling him it's too hot for any human contact. He agrees and focuses on his driving.

"We're almost there." she notes, seeing a sign by the side of the road.

"So do we get chic hotel rooms while we're there?" Marche asks.

"I doubt it. Fencing isn't the most popular sport. No money in it."

Marche shakes his head. "You're such a liar."

Ritz smiled. She had won the last tournament and ten thousand dollars to go with her title. But really, what was ten thousand dollars to live with? A lot of that money was paying for this tournament. 'Just don't lose.' she told herself. She repeated it to herself every day. She refused to lose.

"I hope there's a pool," Marche went on, a dreamy look spreading over his face. "And a spa. And… air conditioning. Mm."

Ritz drooled a little at that last thought too. A city came into view in the distance and they passed another sign telling them which exit to take to reach it.

"Ready?" Marche asks Ritz. She doesn't look at him; she keeps staring out the window, but she smiles.

"Babe, I was born ready."


	6. Chapter 6

A Different City

I want to live in the city with no friends or family  
I'm gonna look out the window of my color TV  
I will remember to remember to forget you  
Forgot me, I'm gonna look out the window of my color TV  
Through the cracks in the wall  
Slow motion for all  
Dripped out of the bar  
So sports is nothing at all  
I'm watching TV  
I guess that's a solution  
They gave me a receipt that said I didn't buy nothing  
So rust is a fire  
And our blood oxidizes  
My eyes roll around all around on the carpet  
Oh hit the deck  
It's the decal man  
standing upside down and talking out of his pants

Through the cracks in the wall  
Slow motion for all  
Left holding the ball and a part for your car

"I guess this is goodbye, after all." I said. She just smiled and waved. We stood beside each other on the train platform, watching her getting smaller.

When she left, she didn't say anything. I always thought she was smarter than us, but maybe I was wrong. And maybe I was right. She was too smart for goodbyes. I think she just wanted to forget us, forget this town that had caused her so much pain.

Her mother was so angry that she didn't come to the platform, not until it was too late. I saw her sitting by the station later, crying loudly. She didn't care who saw her pain; maybe because everyone knew about it already.

"I wish I could forget her."

That's what I said. Her mother stood up then, and walked towards me. I wondered what she would do; I wondered how she felt. She slapped me. And then she walked away. I haven't seen her since.

It was selfish of her, they say. I hear them through these paper thin walls. They sit up all night drinking, and always their talk turns to her. There's nothing to talk about in small towns like this one. Some nights I drink with them, and it makes me sick. But it helps ease the pain.

That's what I tell myself.

But it's all in slow motion. The only difference drinking makes is that it speeds up, and I can see that moment again and again, even faster than before. More times than I see it when I'm sober, but this way, it makes less sense. I can make excuses this way, and say it happened to fast for me to stop her.

This way I can see myself standing still holding pieces of our broken memories, while she speeds away. I always knew she was smarter than us.


	7. Chapter 7

The cold part

So long to this cold, cold part of the world  
So long to this bone-bleached part of the world  
So long to this salt-soaked part of the world  
I stepped down as president of Antarctica  
Can't blame me  
Don't blame me  
So long to this sad, sad part of the world  
So long

A secret is a kind of promise. And we share so many secrets. So many broken promises.

It took a long time to realize that they hate me. I should have known all along; they were chasing me down. Sometimes you just can't see your friends for what they truly are: your enemies.

Why else would they have brought me back to this place?

I was a prince. Everybody loved me. Of course they were jealous, but I never deserved this. This place is too cold for me, too white for my eyes. And that girl; the one I used to think was standing up for me; her hair is just as offensive. I should have known all along that she was always standing up for herself. I was just an excuse.

I'm not to blame. It was mother. It was the circumstances. It's not my fault everyone loved me, and not you. It's not my fault nobody loves you. You can't blame me for all the horrible things you've done; I'm just a victim. It's never the victim's fault.

But I'm to blame for everything, aren't I?


	8. Chapter 8

Alone down there

How do, how do you do?  
My name is you  
Flies, they all gather round me and you too  
You can't see anything well  
You ask me what size it is, not what I sell  
The flies they all gather round me and you too  
Well I don't want you to be alone down there  
to be alone down there to be alone  
Well the devil's apprentice, he gave me some credit  
He fed me a line, and I'll probably regret it  
I don't want you to be alone down there  
to be alone down there to be alone

When I first met Ritz she was alone, and pissed as hell. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying, not anymore. She was angry. She tried to pick a fight with me. At the time she was no match for me, and it didn't take her long to realize it. We decided we should work together. I don't know why; in the past I had always been alone, never joining any clan. But I liked the girl the first time I laid eyes on her. We had so much in common I thought; that much I could see right away. Sometimes I felt like I was her, but never the other way around. Turns out, in a way, I am just a part of her.

She got the crap beaten out of her in those first few days. All the time she would talk; about her friends back home, her family, how unjust the world was, never herself. I was hard on her, I know, and some days when we were finished she couldn't even open her eyes, but in the morning she would wake up ready for more. Her determination inspired me in a way; I guess that's why I ended up following her and not the other way around. I used to think I was the leader.

I had a dream, when she joined up with Marche, and left me for a while. I dreamt of her death. Because of that incompetent little boy. She was lying face down in the dirt, her pink hair fanning out behind her, clumped in places with dirt and blood. I turned her over and there were flies on her face. Flies everywhere, and I tried to brush them away, but they came back. They came back.

I wanted to stay with her then. This world is a part of them, she said, but I know that I'm not Marche's and I'm not a part of Mewt either. I'm a bit of that girl I met, red eyed and crying but so strong, and always she thinks she's alone. I didn't want her to feel alone ever. I didn't want her to die. Even if she leaves me, I will never leave her.


	9. Chapter 9

The Stars are Projectors

In the last second of life, they're gonna show you how  
How they run this show, sure, run it into the ground  
The stars are projectors, yeah  
Projecting our lives down to this planet Earth  
The stars are projectors, yeah  
Projecting our minds down to this planet Earth  
Everyone wants a double feature  
They wanna be their own damn teacher, and how  
All the stars are projectors, yeah  
Projecting our lives down to this planet Earth  
It's all about moderate climates  
You gotta be cold and be hot for sure  
It's all about the moderate climates  
You wanna be blessed and be cursed for sure  
All the stars are projectors, yeah  
Projecting our lives down to this planet Earth  
Everyone wants a double feature  
They want to be in their own damn teacher, and how  
All the stars are projectors, yeah  
Projecting our lives down to this planet Earth  
You've got the harder part, You've got the kinder heart  
And it's true  
I've got the easy part, I've got the harder heart  
Ain't this true  
Right wing, left wing, chicken wing  
It's built on finding the easier ways through  
God is a woman and the woman is  
An animal that animals man, and that's you  
Was there a need for creation?  
That was hidden in a math equation  
And that's this֊WHERE DO CIRCLES BEGIN?

"Goodbye Mewt." Marche whispered, his hand stretching out and slowly falling to the ground. Everything was moving in slow motion, just for this moment and then time stopped. There must have been someone controlling them with a remote control, and they were just a tv show, because it couldn't be true. It couldn't be true.

We're all in a game, he told himself. Where is the reset button? I've played my turn as the villain, now it's my turn to be the hero. My turn to be blessed.

When time started again someone was screaming. Her hair swung around her face, pink, as she ran towards him. He saw the stars in her face, and on her cheeks. He saw his life in those stars.

"Ritz." he said, but it was too late anyway. She forgot for just a moment, and that was all it took. It only takes one moment, one mistake for everything to go wrong. But he started the chain reaction. He killed Marche.

"Mewt." She cried, holding him in her lap now, now that he was finally dying. There was a light coming from behind her, lighting her up from inside. "Don't go now. I'm sorry Mewt. I've never been sorry in my life, but I mean it. I mean it." She gritted her teeth, and he could hear it.

"It's ok. I had the easy part this time around." He told her, as stars fell on his face. "He played the hard part – it's not easy to be a hero, but I'm ready to try it. I'm ready to try."

"Bullshit." she yelled, "There is no easy part!"

"But I'm ready to try…" His voice fell away into silence, until the silence was broken by her wail.

"Why did we create a world like this? Why did it turn out to be so ugly?" she cried, but there was no one left to hear her, not even herself.

Game Over.

Try again?


End file.
